Control
by EvillyPlayful
Summary: Kimblee has to be controlled, and he knows it. GreedxKimblee later.


Just anouther GreedxKimblee fic.

Yes, there will be more.

Might end up being a bit AU.

Enjoy

The shower was long overdue. It was several years overdue, in fact. Kimblee sighed, feeling the water rush down his body. It was hot, just hot enough to make his breath hitch, without actually burning him. Simply feeling anything was amazing. He never thought years of imprisonment would affect him like it did. Freedom was said to have scared many released inmates, though Kimblee was aware of the fact that he was not exactly in that category, he had no doubt the powers that be wanted nothing more than to have him back behind bars, or more like, dead. But even though it had been less than twenty four hours since he found himself free, the idea of freedom made him just a little unnerved. Kimblee figured a few more days of freedom and he would be his old self again.

Because right now he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. After finding himself free, Kimblee was content with wandering around aimlessly, blowing up anyone that crossed his path. His palms were itching from disuse; and with every swelling, distorted body, he felt a bit of his old self come back.

But then there was _him._ Kimblee hated him the moment he laid eyes on him. The creature saw what Kimblee could do, and the bomber saw Greed's unnatural purple eyes gleam, with the look of a child that caught sight of a toy he must have. Kimblee couldn't deny he was completely uninterested in the strange man, who stood there and offered him a place in his group. Kimblee figured it was the effects of prison wearing off of him, because he had agreed, said what the hell, and fell in line behind Greed and his parade of freaks.

And here he was now, showering off years worth of stench in a dingy bathroom above a grimy little bar Greed had commandeered. Kimblee figured he should be happy on some level, he had been allowed to blow up the bar's former owner. He didn't miss the flicker in Greed's eyes as he watched Kimblee lay his tattooed palms on the man's chest. There was almost a gleam of pride, like Greed was thinking, "Yes, that's MY alchemist."

It was no different from the military. There were rules. Greed had been quick to lay them down. There were rules on who he could and couldn't blow up. Those monsters, those chimaras, were off limits, unfortunately. He could only explode who Greed said he could. No drawing too much attention for now, because Greed had plans. He had to listen to Greed, help Greed. It was the fucking military all over again. But, it wasn't as though Kimblee hated his years in the force, he didn't understand the silly justifications they fed themselves, but he hadn't minded pretending. With Greed, at least, there were no justifications, just orders.

Suddenly the water in the shower changed from hot and relaxing to freezing.

"Fuck!" Kimblee growled, and jumped from the shower.

He found himself face to face with Greed, his hand still perched on the toilet's handle.

"You were in there too long," Greed said with a shrug.

"Bastard," Kimblee spat.

"You should get dressed. You're not exactly someone I want to look at naked," Greed commented, though his eyes seemed intent on taking in as much of the pale, sickly skinny alchemist he could.

"Gimme some clothes, then, asshole. I'm not putting those rags back on," Kimblee said. He wasn't exactly modest, but Greed's stare was making him rather uncomfortable.

"There's clothes and towels in the bedroom," Greed said motioning to the door. "Get dressed and come down and be sociable."

Kimblee glared, but said nothing as Greed turned and left.

Be sociable. What the hell kind of order was that? Why would Greed care? Kimblee scowled, being social with those hybrids downstairs was not his idea of fun, but Greed had left very little room for debate on the matter.

Kimblee dried off and dressed slowly. Greed had laid out an outfit for him, like Kimblee was some doll for him to dress. It felt strange to wear normal clothes again. The restricting feeling of the pants and jacket reminded Kimblee of his military uniform. Still it wasn't a horrible outfit, Kimblee couldn't deny that Greed had some sense of style. He didn't miss the choice of colors either. Crimson… Greed probably thought he was awfully clever.

Dressed, though with still scraggly wet hair and a scowl, Kimblee descended the stairs. Chatter rose to meet him, laughter, the sounds of glasses hitting the bar, and even soft music filled the main bar room. Kimblee hated crowds, unless, of course, he had been ordered to blow up said crowd, but being asked to be sociable was a whole other matter.

Greed didn't even see him. He was sitting on the couch with an attractive red head woman in his lap. Kimblee narrowed his eyes.

He was relieved that it wasn't just Greed and the Chimaras, but several humans.

His order was to be sociable, how the hell did one go about that? Kimblee was still trying to gather his personality back together, remembering social skills was not at the top of his priorities.

Kimblee stood in the doorway for a while, just watching everyone else. Greed was still preoccupied with the red head, while the dog boy was talking enthusiastically to the larger chimera (Kimblee hadn't caught what that man had been crossed with). Martel was the only one who's name Kimblee managed to catch, probably because she was the only woman, and after years in prison, even her freaky body was something nice to look at. She was sitting, at the bar, eyes locked on Greed and the red head, who was now giggling obnoxiously.

Bar. Kimblee grinned, alcohol was something he had dreamed about in prison. He was never a big drinker, but he could still appreciate the stinging taste of hard liquor and the relaxation it brought. Kimblee watched Martel tear her eyes from Greed and step behind the bar to pour herself a drink. His gold eyes watched as the woman sipped from the glass, unsure if he was lusting after Martel or the drink.

Kimblee cast a sideways glance at Greed, before following Martel's actions and stepping behind the bar to get himself a drink.

"You're supposed to asked before you take something that belongs to someone else, didn't you know?" Greed said smoothly. Somehow his voice cut through the chatter and noise in the bar, and everyone as suddenly looking right at Kimblee, who had just finished pouring him his drink. Greed was still sitting on the couch, his head cocked over just enough to meet Kimblee's eyes.

"Not everything is yours," Kimblee said shortly.

"Mm, but the bar is," Greed said in a humorous tone. "You're supped to ask before you take other people's things."

"A fine lecture coming from someone named Greed," Kimblee sneered.

"Is asking so much trouble?" Greed questioned.

Kimblee ignored him.

"You either ask or you have to pay for the drink," Greed said simply.

"The hell I do," Kimblee retorted. The bar was silent, expect for Greed and Kimblee's exchange, and the Alchemist was aware of this fact.

"Yes, you do," Greed said, dangerously. Kimblee wanted nothing more than to throw the drink right in the pompous asshole's face, and then blow him to bits and pieces, but the danger in those unnatural purple eyes was undeniable. Kimblee never got the full story behind Greed, but knew he was capable of some inhuman actions.

"Fine, you ass," Kimblee growled. "Can I have something to drink?"

"Hmm, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, sure," Greed smiled, approvingly, showing off his pointed teeth.

Kimblee grabbed his drink with the intent of going back upstairs and staying there; he figured being a social spectacle was close enough to being sociable.

"What do you say when someone gives you something?" Greed persisted. Kimblee's grip on his glass tightened, and his palms began to burn.

"Fuck you!" he yelled, before storming upstairs.

"Close enough!" he heard Greed call after him.

Kimblee would never admit it, ever. But he liked being controlled; he liked being told what to do. He liked being able to mouth off one second and obey the next. It was one of the top reasons he enlisted in the Military. His loved orders, he loved the thrill that came from disobeying orders, the fear of punishment always lingering in the back of his mind.

His thoughts went to Greed, and his dangerous purple, possessive eyes; his new "master" was going to be so much fun. Kimblee smirked to himself, before laying back on the bed.

"So much fun," he said in a soft giggle.


End file.
